


Intrapsychosis

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: 400 Scrawls To Thank You All [4]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-08
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-05-12 12:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5665744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo has lived with mental illness for almost as long as he can remember. Of course, nobody important knows, and most who know don't seem to take it into account.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intrapsychosis

**Author's Note:**

> Anon asked: Crazy!Ichigo gets locked up in the Maggot's Nest

“Mein schatzi, you have to eat.”

“They pissed in the water. I know they did.”

Masaki bites her lip.

“Ichigo, you need to eat,” she says gently. “Look, Berry’s hungry, too.”

Ichigo looks up. The little girl’s knelt over their dinner, stringy orange hair pooling on the floor as she peers at the soggy rice bun.

She wrinkles her nose.

“It smells bad,” she says. “Like it’s rotten.”

Ichigo glances up at his mother.

“If I eat that I’ll get sick. Not worth it.”

“Maybe if we get sick, they’ll take us to a doctor. Maybe they’ll be nicer.”

“That’s a nice thought, Berry, but it won’t work.” The muscled man settled against Ichigo’s side scruffs a hand through his close-cropped hair. “These people… They’re bad men.”

Wood creaks, sharp and high, and they all stiffen. There is nothing in their cell that could make that noise.

Masaki breaks the tension.

“Sarge, what do you think we should do?”

Sarge grunts.

“Our best option is to wait,” he says. “Urahara’s smart. He likes you. He’ll find a way.”

“It’s getting worse,” Ichigo murmurs. “And it’ll keep getting worse. Urahara won’t make his move until he knows he’ll win, and by that time— by that time there won’t be anyone left for him to save.”

“It’s your only option.”

“No.” Ichigo runs a hand through his hair, which by now is brushing his shoulders. “No, it’s not my only option. I could escape.”

“How?” Sarge asks. “C’mon, Ichigo. We’re in a goddamn cell. No windows, one door. You’ve got no powers, you’ve got no backup, you’re weak as a goddamn kitten thanks to the meal plan—“

“See now, uh, I could help you there.” The voice makes everyone jump. A high-pitched giggle follows the words, soft and grating.

“Kaa-chan?” Berry moves to Masaki’s side, catching the edge of her sleeve in little fingers.

Ichigo growls.

“Shut up,” he hisses. “Go back to sleep.”

“Heh, it’s so funny how you think I was _sleeping_ , Ichigo,” the man whispers, voice echoing off the gray stone walls. “I’m always, uh, waiting.”

“Fuck off. We weren’t talking to you,” Sarge barks. “We don’t want you here.”

The man giggles again. They can’t see him, thank fuck, but it’s a small comfort when they can hear him.

“Oh, cool it, Sarge. A girl might get offended when you talk like that,” he says. “Especially when I’m, uh, offering a helping hand.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“Now, now, Sarge. I’m not the bad guy, here, you said so yourself.” Chains clink in the distance. Ichigo imagines them, wrapped tightly around spindly arms, biting into ragged purple fabric. “The, uh, the bad guys… They’re the ones holding him here.”

“That means nothing,” Ichigo says. “You’re just as bad for us as the guards.”

“Aw, Ichigo, way to hurt a guy’s feelings. An enemy of an enemy is a friend, you know, and, uh, I don’t like being down here anymore than the rest of you do.”

Berry buries her face in Masaki’s side. Ichigo snarls.

“Go. Away.”

There’s a soft chuckle.

“Just think about it, kid. You know where to find me.”

He goes silent again, and the group calms.

“Wait,” Sarge grunts. “Urahara will find a way.”

Ichigo sighs.

“We’ll see.”

  
*.*

  
Ichigo’s diagnosed at thirteen. It’s been going on for a long while before the diagnosis, of course, but it becomes official when he’s thirteen.

For the most part, nothing changes. He takes medication for a while, starts up therapy, but beyond the occasional tea parties Berry has with Yuzu or a meal courtesy of Masaki, Ichigo remains Ichigo. Sarge rarely— if ever— shows his face, and the… The other one stays far away from Karakura. Ichigo leads a relatively normal life. He may share headspace, but otherwise, everything’s normal.

Not many people have access to his file. Even if they do, it’s rare they even recognize what Dissociative Identity Disorder even is. What the hell would a school nurse even do if she did recognize the term? Send him home early? Please. Ichigo’s got shit to do.

The diagnosis itself is a turning point. His dad checks into rehab after getting that news, and after a few months in a foster home, everything’s back to normal. It’s Isshin, Ichigo, and the girls, a mostly-functioning family unit with mostly-normal conversations and a decidedly unusual bit of baggage. It’s not perfect. Karin dislikes the whole situation, and even Isshin looks a little uncomfortable when Masaki fronts for Sunday morning breakfast, but all in all, it’s better than it was.

Most of the time.

  
*.*

  
“What do you mean, ‘Ichigo’s in trouble’?”

Yuzu huffs in irritation.

“Sir, I understand that no harm will come to him in the Maggot’s Nest,” she says. “Though I’m not really sure I take your word for that, considering you left your post as warden a century ago. But that’s not the point. The point is, my big brother’s sick, and it’s been three months since his last therapy appointment. If you’ve got a plan you need to speed it the fuck up— sir.”

Kisuke blinks. Yuzu’s the softer of the twins, soft-hearted and soft-spoken. The curse is ill-suited to her mouth.

“What do you mean, he’s sick?” he inquires, arching an eyebrow. “Isshin said that he’s been doing well.”

Something in the girl’s face changes.

“Tou-san didn’t tell you?”

Kisuke’s stomach drops into his shoes.

“Tell me what?”

“You don’t— oh, you don’t know. This is bad.” Yuzu runs a hand through her loose hair. “Ichi-nii— he’s— do you know what Dissociative Identity Disorder is?”

“… You can’t be serious.” That’s something Kisuke thinks he ought to be informed about, considering… Fuck, considering what he’s done to that boy.

“He’s sick, he’s unmedicated, and he’s locked up in a spirit prison for existing,” she says. “Tell me whatever plans you have don’t involve waiting.”

“I—“ Kisuke sucks in a breath. “I need to talk to your father.”

  
*.*

  
It isn’t so bad, when Ichigo’s young. Isshin doesn’t go out often, and Masaki has a pretty good handle on him when he does. Still, though, Ichigo has memories— fuzzy, frightening ones— of bones and bottles breaking, the sound of his mother screaming her fury when she finds Ichigo huddled in his closet between stacks of grimy comics, bruised and bleeding and damaged.

There comes a tipping point, of course, and Ichigo doesn’t really know the details, but his father stops drinking all together one day, and apologizes when he puts Ichigo to bed that night.

Never again, he tells Ichigo, and after a while, the orangette believes him.

And then, Masaki dies. And something shatters.

  
*.*

  
Ichigo hits the concrete hard and doesn’t get back up again, even after the iron door of his cell is slammed shut. His shirt’s torn, his back bloody from the whips of the guards. He has to hand it to the man— his father could have learned a thing or two from him.

“Don’t think about that, Ichigo. Focus on me.” Masaki’s hands are cool on his face, tilting his chin until he can meet her eyes.

“Kaa-san,” he croaks, voice small. “Kaa-san, it hurts.”

Berry is in the far corner, rocking back and forth as she weeps into her dirty knees. Ichigo feels thick hands on his back, gently peeling away the bloodied bits of fabric that stick to flayed skin.

“Chin up, Ichigo. It’s not the first time.”

No, it’s not, not in his life, and definitely not here. So he bites his lip and doesn’t scream as the fabric falls away, because he’s a goddamn veteran when it comes to this sort of thing, and some two-bit prison guard isn’t going to change that.

Somebody tuts in his ear, making Ichigo jerk painfully.

“Now, now, looks at this. Somebody, uh, somebody dared to lay a hand on you? Naughty, naughty.” He’s not there, thank fuck, but Ichigo can hear the grin in his voice. “You know, if I were out there? They uh, they’d be shaking in their boots at the thought of coming near me, near us. I bet I could get them to give us a parade on our way out. I bet I could make them do anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ichigo grits out. “You’re not an option. You’ve never been an option.”

“Aw Ichi, don’t you remember when we used to play?” Cold fingers brush the nape of Ichigo’s neck, causing him to shudder painfully. “We used to run around for hours in the dark, kaa-san would let us play with fire… Don’t you remember the, uh, the good old times?”

Ichigo pulls away from the ghostly touch, pressing his face into his mother’s shoulder.

“You’re the one that fucked it up for yourself,” Sarge barks. “You’re not allowed back out for a reason, and you know that damn well.”

He lets out a wheezing giggle.

“Aw, Sarge, you know, for all my faults, I’m, uh, I’m good for something,” he says. “And I think it’s gonna become real obvious pretty soon what it is exactly I’m good for.”

Sarge growls but doesn’t answer, and Ichigo falls asleep like that, curled up on the floor with his arms around himself.

The giggling still echoes in between breaths.

  
*.*

  
“It wasn’t something you needed to know. Ichigo had it under control by the time he met you. He was okay.”

"You gave me a boy with multiple personalities and let me play with his soul.” Kisuke leans forward pushing the brim of his hat up out of his face. “Are you stupid?”

Isshin winces at the fury burning in those usually calm gray eyes.

“I didn’t want him involved at all,” he says, crossing his arms. “I kept his heritage from him in hopes of saving him from exactly this. You were the one who thought it prudent to go through with hollowfication. You were the one who decided encroachment was the best option, not me.”

“I might have decided differently if I knew I was screwing with an already unstable soul!” Kisuke hisses. “No wonder he was under for a month afterward. His brain couldn’t handle the stress.”

“I don’t know why Yuzu even brought it up with you,” Isshin says. “He was doing better, you know. He was almost back to normal before—“

“Yuzu thought his disorder might come into play before any of my plans came to fruition,” the blond replies, pulling his hat forward again. “She said that he may become dangerous long before we can reach him. She said there was a… she called the personality ‘The Bad Man’.”

“She’s overreacting. That personality hasn’t been active in years. It’s highly unlikely it’ll surface anytime soon.” But something in Isshin’s face changes, something more closely resembling unease.

“For the sake of argument let’s say this is a possibility. Ichigo-kun’s soul is split into several parts, one of which is a… Yuzu called it a dark alter. What could happen, should stress be introduced beyond the unlawful imprisonment?”

Isshin swallows. “Depending on how Ichigo assesses the situation, a few things could happen. If the stress is physical, Ichigo will take it. If they’re— if he were to be tortured, for instance. If the stress is mental… Masaki likely will step in. She was always strong-willed.”

“Masaki? You don’t mean—“

“The doctors said it happens, sometimes. People with the disorder will integrate people close to them into their system. Masaki made her presence known before we really understood what was going on.” Isshin smiles bitterly. “It… It wasn’t a good time, for any of us.”

“… Okay. What about the Bad Man?”

Isshin shakes his head.

“Like I said, it’s unlikely. He stopped showing up when Ichigo was… Fourteen? And Ichigo was quite careful not to let us come in contact with him.” He sits back. “Ichigo was always under the impression that alter was evil. From what I could tell, he was petty. He did things, to the girls. Rip up their drawings or break their toys. He cut the heads off all of Yuzu’s dolls once, I remember.”

“And you think he won’t resurface? You don’t think he could be as violent as Yuzu seems to think he is?”

“I doubt it. If anything, Berry will front. Tactically, it would make sense. Berry’s a child, a little girl. If Ichigo can get the guards to believe he’s just a harmless crazy, Sarge might be able to work-out a half-decent escape plan.”

“So you don’t think there’s any chance at all this could end poorly due to his disorder?”

“I doubt it.”

Kisuke grimaces.

“What?”

“Well, Isshin-san, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about your son,” he says slowly, getting to his feet. “Is that you should never, ever, ever, doubt him.

“We need to get him out as quickly as possible.”

  
*.*

  
“Oh, Ichi, what have they done to you.”

The crooning voice is what returns Ichigo to consciousness, being half-dragged, half-carried back to his cell. His back is a bloody mess, his face not much better.

"You, uh, you know, if you just let me, just let me come out, properly, I could have us out in hours. Maybe even minutes."

Ichigo spits, blood and mucus landing wetly on the stone.

Fuck off, he thinks, voice weak even in his own mind.

A purple-gloved hand reaches out, catching his chin and forcing him to look up into mad green eyes, only a shade lighter than the acid green of his hair.

"Come on, Ichigo, you know you want to…Scratch that. You, uh, have to, if you don’t want to die in this shit hole." The man in the purple suit grins, dancing back with each step of the guards. "You don’t wanna die anymore than the rest of us do."

He lets go of Ichigo’s chin, letting his head drop.

"If I—" Ichigo grunts as one of the guards elbows him in his broken ribs. "Shit!"

"Shut the fuck up, brat."

"Just nod your head," the man croons. "Just nod your head, and little old me will, will make them _pay_."

Distantly, Ichigo can hear Masaki arguing, can hear Sarge yelling, can hear Berry crying, and he knows the danger, by the gods he knows, but if this is the only way he can save them, can save himself...

He nods.

The man grins, ruddy lips stretching like a gash across his paper white skin.

"Good choice, kiddo."

Ichigo lets himself go limp, lets himself fall back, where the pain doesn’t touch him anymore and the guards can’t find him.

The person who begins to giggle is not Ichigo, for all that the noise escapes his throat.

"What the fuck is wrong with this kid?" The guard hits him again. "Shut up!"

But the man’s laughter only gets louder. The guard hits him harder, and again, and then—

"You really ought not to do that, big boy."

Ichigo’s mouth is pulled back into a too-wide, manic grin, one that tears at the flesh of his cheeks.

His hand goes through the first guards chest like a knife through butter, and the other one…

Well, suffice to say, when the prisoner finally straightens, his escorts look like mince meat.

The Maggot’s Nest is full of cameras. When Ichigo was still able, he learned the placement of every single one between his rooms and interrogation.

The man in his body puts that knowledge to good use.

"To Captain Sui Feng, of the Second Division," he drawls, voice unnaturally high as he tries to suppress his giggles. "The _Joker_ here. Ichigo’s a little, uh, a little tuckered out by the fine services you’ve so, uh, so _generously_ provided, so I thought we’d play a little game. It’s called, uh, 'Let’s See If the Guards Can Survive the Next Hour'. Why don’t you come down and join us?"

He brushes back a lock of orange hair, smearing blood through the greasy locks as he peers into the reflection of the lens. Blowing a kiss, he breaks the camera and starts towards the common area, his brisk walk unhindered by the damage inflicted on Ichigo’s body.

Time to have some _fun._

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Well! This was fun, mostly because I already had something in mind. The best part is that I'm up close and personal with a human with D.I.D. almost all the time now, so most everything here is pretty accurate in the sense of fictive introjects and factive introjects. Anything that is wrong is because I didn't check with her.
> 
> If you're interested in the subject of D.I.D., you may follow my Zucchini at firstperson-plural.tumblr.com. She can answer any questions you might have.


End file.
